Dreaming of the First
by Beyond-obsession
Summary: Post-Chosen. The First is back, with a vengeance, and Willow and Angel are both experiencing ominous dreams. Not as cheesy as it sounds.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Of course, I don't own any of these characters. Except for a few originals, but duh, you'll know those. I wish I owned a few, but y'know. Shush shush.

A/N: If you didn't know- it's Willow's POV.

* * *

I woke up crying one morning. I'm not sure why, or what caused it, the only thing I can remember is waking up drenched in tears. My eyes were red and puffy, I later saw, looking in the mirror. Everything else looked the same as always. Messy bed hair, stinky breath, morning bags under my eyes…check. What had happened?

I could feel that somebody else felt my dreams. That was interesting. Somebody had been there with me, but I am not sure who. I felt scared, and I felt hopeless; I was just watching in fright as somebody took care of something I was not prepared to face.

What was going on?

Kennedy mumbled in the bed, tossing and turning, and I turned to face her, sighing. The Brazilian heat around us had made her ruffle the covers up, and I could see that she had kicked them all up to rest on my side. No wonder I felt slightly sweaty.

She was too, by the way. Her skin was darker than normal, due to the sun in South America. I, on the other hand, managed to remain a bright pink all the time, if I was lucky. Stupid red hair.

We had been busy these past few months, ever since Sunnydale imploded. We all rested for about a month, gathering our wits about us, then Giles decided it was time to head back home to England. Well, that was peachy with the rest of us, considering we all were, unbeknownst to us, of course, being shipped off to other countries to gather Slayers that had been called.

England was to be the home base in our massive game of Slayer tag. He had funding, through some link to the Council that had been left underground when they exploded into tiny, stuffy, tweed-wrapped bits, and he took Andrew and some colleagues spread about America with him to start up his own version of the Watcher's Council. Only not evil.

Kennedy and I had been sent to Brazil. Xander was sent to Australia, Buffy and Dawn went to Europe, and Faith and Wood went out to Africa. After a year abroad, we would all gather in England, then head to America to gather the Slayers awakened there.

It was a massive project, and it kind of scared me to picture us out here, in the middle of South America, for a year. But hey, if I didn't develop skin cancer, I would be able to withstand anything.

Except those dreams.

I sighed, and brushed through my ever-growing red hair in the primitive mirror. It felt nice to be connected with nature, out in a hut in the jungle, but I longed for my home in Sunnydale… well, Buffy's home by the end of it, but still.

I heard a shuffle to the right, and I squeaked in surprise, but sighed in relief as I saw Espinosa, one of the South American Slayers. I had personally nicknamed our team "S.A.S.S.," South American Slayer Squad. I have never claimed to not be a nerd.

"_Lo siento, senorita,_" Espinosa whispered softly. "_Soy espantado, y necesito un explanacion para el alboroto._"

I sighed. She was scared, and she needed an explanation about the disturbance? What disturbance?

"_Que alboroto? Es probablemente animales en la selva,_" I replied, hoping to soothe her. It didn't look like my assurance was helping.

She explained, in slow Spanish so that I could follow, that there had been a scream. I asked who it was from, and she said she couldn't tell. It had felt like it was coming from her mind.

Great. Another beastie that's attacking our girls through dreams.

I stepped closer, resting a hand on her shoulder, looking concerned. I asked her to try and get back to sleep, or if she liked, she could stay up with me for a cup of coffee and the sunrise, and we would keep an eye out.

She opted to stay awake with me. I haven't explained to any of them that there was a time I could be more dangerous than any danger out in the jungle. They trusted me, and I felt comforted by that dependence on me.

I made some coffee, and handed her a cup, sugared and creamed, and got a couple blankets. I waved for her to follow, and we stepped outside onto the wooden porch, which overlooked a small slope into the jungle. To the right, you could see the small homes of those who lived in the village there, covered in thatch and primitive manners of construction. Life was simple here, yet it was much more difficult than I could have imagined.

To the right were the farming areas. Some were common grounds where the folks without as much money could get a few bucks off their crops. The others were fenced, large and well-groomed (It's obvious I'm no farmer. Shut up, I do my best.), and the richer the person, the greener the ground seemed to be.

I gave Espinosa a blanket, and we sat down on the small wooden bench, curled our legs up underneath us, and pulled the woolen blankets over us. I sipped my coffee, and winced as I burnt my tongue.

"Ow! _Muy caliente,_" I muttered, sticking my tongue out to cool it in the chilly, just-before-sunrise air. I should've been grateful. It can get HOT there.

Espinosa smiled, but she still looked worried, so I asked her to describe again what had happened.

She said that while she had been asleep, she had seen many things in her mind. A girl, seeking help, then a large man fighting back monsters, dark and scary, and finally another man holding something blue and glowing… his eyes were bleeding and they sparkled with blue.

As she spoke, I could see things in my mind. Flashes of what she was saying, exactly how she was saying them. Nothing was there for too long, but I knew everyone in the images. Angel was fighting… Wesley was holding the blue item; his eyes looked like they had exploded… oh goddess.

And the girl.

Naturally.

Who else would it have been?

I mean, just because Sunnydale explodes… she's still got to be in trouble, right?

I rose from my seat, placing the coffee cup down, telling Espinosa I would be right back. I set my blanket down, then ran into the house, picking up my magically charged cell phone. I speed-dialed number 2, and smiled worriedly as Giles picked up.

"Watcher's Council, this is Rupert Giles," said a tired, familiar voice.

"Giles," I said, sighing. "It's Buffy."


	2. Chapter 2: Second Sight

"Buffy?" Giles yawned into the phone. "You sound different. Do you have a cold?" I could hear his smirk all the way in Brazil.

"Giles! Cut that out," I tried to sound serious while giggling. I soon remembered the dreams, and got back to business, though. "It's Willow, you know that. I just… I'm calling about Buffy, not AS Buffy."

Giles nodded, and I could hear his office chair squeak as he turned around, facing someone else, I presumed. "Really, Willow? What's going on?"

I sighed. "It's… there's at least two of us here who have had dreams about her… and not the sexy, naked Slayer kind of dreams, not that… I don't think of her like that, but I…," I paused, trying to gather my derailed train of thought. "Okay, see, we've had these… flashes of fighting, and pain, and Buffy's involved somehow, along with Angel and Wesley…

"Oh, have you heard from any of the others? I mean, if I'm getting some dreamage here, there must be some going on somewhere else, right? And I wanted to see how they were all doing anyway." I'm a born yammerer.

Giles laughed softly into the phone, though I could hear his concern masked behind it. "Well, I have not heard from Buffy in a while, nor Xander, but I have heard quite a bit from Andrew."

"Andrew? What did he have to say?"

Giles groaned, "Entirely too much about entirely too little."

I giggled, and heard Kennedy shift uncomfortably behind me, so I lowered my voice. "Well, as informative as that is, Giles…"

He sighed, "I know, Willow. I'll keep my eyes out for any brewing trouble."

"Yeah, well," I started, "Let's just hope that isn't literally. Talk to you when the rest of the girls wake up, I think I'm starting to make Kennedy mad."

"Ah, yes," he nodded into the phone, "tell everyone hello from England."

I smiled softly. I had missed him. "I will. It's been good to talk to you again… I'll call you back soon."

Giles smiled. "To you as well. Good, well, morning, really, but I shall talk to you later. Goodbye, Willow."

With that, we hung up.

The rest of the day passed smoothly. No other girls has been afflicted, and I was relieved to find that Espinosa's frightened attitude disappeared when her friends woke up. Kennedy woke up around 8:30, and by 9 she had led the girls out for a morning "warm-up" training session. From what I've seen, her warm-ups could kill me. The girls seemed to be getting conditioned, though.

I watched her with a soft sigh. I was cleaning, well, I was pretending to, but for the moment I was just viewing my Slayer in action. She was a born leader, which was something I most certainly was not. I've never been comfortable, even in front of people my age that I've lived with for years.

When Buffy pointed me out in front of our large group sessions, I got nervous. I'm not ashamed of it, or anything. No badness in being a wallflower, but it does get frustrating. I was supposed to be helping these girls find their true selves, and yet there I was. I was stuck inside, cleaning instead of leading, organizing instead of helping, delegating instead of taking responsibility.

Kennedy didn't need me in this. I wasn't needed here. I wanted to be in England. I wanted to be with Giles, helping and organizing, locating and…

I stopped myself. I was here for a reason. The Powers, Fate, the gods… they wouldn't have put me here if I wasn't supposed to be. What I wanted was irrelevant. And that was also pretty darn frustrating.

I returned to cleaning, busying myself, humming a native song I had heard in the village earlier when I had gone out for eggs. I went to my dresser, or, well, the one Kennedy and I share, and I began dusting the antique wood, sighing, feeling bored. I continued, then lifted my rag to dust off the mirror.

There was a flash in the mirror, and I lifted my head suddenly, looking to the right. Wide, blue eyes met mine, mixed with an evil smirk formed by two large, pouty lips.

I screamed, and that's about the last thing I remember before my head hit the floor.


	3. Chapter 3: Look and Feel

"Tara!" I shouted as I came to, not realizing where I was, or what was going on. I looked up, and saw two narrowed brown eyes gazing at me. Not quite the soft blue eyes of understanding I was looking for.

I sat up, got a head rush, and laid back down, groaning softly.

Kennedy rested her hand on my forehead, then stroked back my hair slowly. It felt nice. I smiled weakly up at her.

"How long was I out?" I asked, hoping to avoid the implications of what I said.

Kennedy shook her head. "I don't know, Will. One of the girls pointed at the window a few seconds ago. They just saw you were out on the ground. Couldn't have been too long, though. What happened?" She looked truly concerned. It made me feel a little better. Though I did still feel pretty nauseous.

"Um," I started. Great way to start any sentence, I think. "I, uh, well… I saw her. I saw Tara. She – she was in the mirror, but it wasn't her. It wasn't. I just… it was evil… but goddess, it was her," I sighed. "I'm sorry. It just… she scared me."

Kennedy nodded slowly, obviously not happy with my answer. Well, it's not like I could help it. She cleared her throat. "Well, whatever it was, it's gone now."

It? It wasn't an it… oh, well, okay, maybe it was, but still. The calm, gentle hand was gone from my forehead too. Kennedy was of the jealous sort, I'd come to notice. I didn't make a habit of flirting with other people, but if she was near me when a girl so much as looked at me wrong (or, well, right), she would be glaring and fuming; I often feared she'd be the death of somebody.

I moaned softly. "Kennedy. It wasn't her, I know that. I'm sorry. That's long over, just please… help me to the bed."

Kennedy's fists unclenched at my side. It took me a moment to wince after I realized that she had been gripping me with those fists. That had hurt. I glared up at her as she just blinked at me.

"Fine," I muttered, "I'll do it myself." I started, stubbornly, to stand up, and my legs gave way beneath me. I cried out, and quickly began to fall back down to meet the floor. She was up before me, and her hands caught me under my arms, lifting me back up.

I looked down at her, and nodded, still grumpy. "Thanks," I mumbled. She nodded, narrowing her eyes again at me.

I sighed. "What!?" I said, finally fed up with it. "Is there something on my face?"

Kennedy nodded slowly.

I rolled my eyes. "Well then why are you look--," I stopped. "I do?"

She nodded again.

Sigh. "What is it?"

Kennedy spoke softly, looking frustrated. "Her."

I tilted my head, looking none too calm. "What? This isn't another one of those body switching things is it? I… I'm not really her, am I?"

Again with a head shake. She saw my faltering knees and helped me to the bed, laying my tired body down on it. What was her problem? I closed my eyes, and pulled the soft cotton blankets up over me.

"Then what?" I asked, turning on my side to look at her.

"You still love her," she said slowly, as though just sounding it out.

That hit me by surprise. Though I had never really denied it, I did feel a deep love and loss for Tara, one that probably would never go away. I nodded slowly, not wanting to lie to her.

"I do," I said softly, "and I may always, but that doesn't mean I don't love you, too. She meant a lot to me; helped me in ways I… I'll never even truly know. You know what that feels like, right?"

Her eyes narrowed again. I whined.

"I didn't mean it like that!" I protested. "I know you know what it feels like to love and care for someone. I just meant…" I sighed. "Forget it. I'm tired, you're cranky, and I'm apparently some kind of slutbag for loving my last girlfriend, who was _murdered_, so…whatever. Good night, Kennedy."

She blinked, glared at me, and nodded. "Right. Fine. I'll see you when you're ready to get up. Scream if you need anything."

She turned, and she left, still huffing and glaring. What had happened? I was hurt that she had left so eagerly, that she didn't even seem to care. I had fainted! That's normally not of the good. So why on earth was she so…

A small giggle arose from the corner.

"She's a fiery one, that girl," a familiar, soft voice said. But this voice had lost its luster.

I turned my head back to face the wall with the backdoor, where Kennedy had just traipsed through on her nonchalant return to practice. Tara was standing in the corner, near our lamp. But this Tara was dark. Her eyes had been sunken in, and she wore a V-necked, dark blue lacy shirt which clearly showed her bullet wound.

I winced. Tears welled in my eyes. I needed to cry. I didn't want to be seeing this, and I didn't want to be fighting with Kennedy when, more than ever, I needed to be held and taken care of. I needed to be away from here.

But here I was. Facing _her._

"What do you want?" I asked weakly.

A wicked smile took the place of her dark smirk. _Into the fire, here we go,_ I though to myself.

She stepped away from the tan, stucco wall that made up the majority of our house. She passed through the dark wooden stand that held our candles, our "lamp." She saw my tears as she stepped into the light. I noticed, as she stood in front of the candles, that the fire flickering behind her could be seen almost through her. That was odd.

Her jean-clad leg bent and knelt on the bed beside me, and she reached out, one hand in front of my face. She mimed wiping away a tear, and for a moment, I could remember Tara, kissing away my tears, using her smooth, small fingers to caress my face until I calmed myself. This Tara was cold.

This Tara was dead.

I looked up at "her," and I shook my head, tears collecting in my eyes. "Why are you here? Does it take more than a whole city imploding on you to kill you?"

Tara's smile widened a bit more, the gaunt eyes widening in delight.

"Oh, honey. You can't just get rid of me because you say it's over. I've seen you. You've tried to hard to continue what I left behind, but you know it's not working," she said, voice soft and light. That light was hiding the darkest void I've ever felt.

"Actually, I don't know what you're talking about. We've worked to continue what WE left behind, and," I sighed, "why am I bothering even _trying_ to argue with you? You're not just incorporeal, you're insufferable."

She _tsk­_-ed me. "Insults. What a primitive species you have become. You would have done well to just let me take over. Besides, you could have seen me again," the wide eyes fluttered, and she smiled wickedly. "Or maybe I could have used you as my right-hand witch… you're quite the wicked woman, yourself."

I closed my eyes. This explained why Kennedy had been so bitter and hostile towards me. The First was back, and it was after me. It was driving away the one familiar person I had close to me here in this foreign jungle. I couldn't afford to lose that link. Goddess, my sanity would disappear.

With a shake of my head, I turned away from the First, refusing to listen any longer. Tara's body appeared in front of me again, this time in something a bit more appealing. The dark blue top had turned into a nightgown, the color of her blood. I felt my stomach sicken.

"You will not defeat me, Willow. You tried. You failed. I am left with few options, but I will take _everything_ that I have," her words bit into me, a small echo coming from her dark voice. She leaned down, revealing Tara's body to me as she bends in front of me, meeting my avoidant eyes. Her body was healed, I noticed. Tears stung my eyes as I tried to escape the encroaching presence. Was that her breath? The First should have no breath…

"We have power now," I said, sounding small, "We are forming an army. You can try and come back, but Buffy and… we…we'll stop you."

She chuckled, obviously amused at my big words behind my small voice. "You'll stop me? Foolish witch. You may have learned a few new tricks along your path," she trailed off, leaning closer.

Those lips were releasing hot air onto my face. The lip gloss smelled like Tara's lips… and it tasted the same as the lips were pressed into mine. There was nothing beautiful about that kiss. It was painful, it was dark, and it was empty. I sobbed into it, trying to make myself pull away, but I couldn't. It had been so long… she tasted just like her.

The First pulled away, well, first, and her dark, rich laugh swept through the small bedroom. I opened my eyes sleepily, not wanting to believe what I had just done; I didn't want to remember. As my eyes fell upon her face, I screamed. I wasn't remembering, I was seeing my worst nightmares.

The flesh on Tara's face was green and black, rotted. There may have been maggots. Her eyes were gone, only dark, sinewy holes remained where the eyeballs had once been. The smile, torn and peeling away, was wicked to the core. As my stomach wretched, I realized I had been kissing that. I hadn't kissed the Tara I loved, not the one I'd held so close. No.

I had kissed someone who was dead. Rotting away in the earth. This was a bastard reincarnation of what was once dear to me.

I was vomiting when she left. I didn't notice her disappearance. All I noticed was that I felt frighteningly cold as I heaved.


	4. Chapter 4: Flight of the Hunted

Kennedy found me on the floor, unconscious. I had willed away the mess I had made, but I had fainted soon after. She shook me a few times, demanding to know what had happened. My lips burned.

She laid me out on the bed, looking so frustrated. I wanted her to just calm down, to realize that things would be okay. She got so high-strung when things like this happened. Of course, I was kind of still unconscious, so I guess my thoughts didn't matter much.

I blinked heavily at her, then slowly let my hand move forward, laying it over hers. "Ken," I said with a soft smile, "I… I'm okay. I didn't mean to scare you."

Kennedy stopped her muttering, and looked down at me. "You didn't. I just want to know what the hell is going on around here. Dreams, fainting… god, would it kill you to let me in on it?"

I smiled, a bit loopy from the fainting spells. "Well, it seems to be killing me not to, huh?"

She glared. Okay, so, humor was lost on her at the moment.

"I just," I said, "I didn't _know_ what was going on. Not until now."

Kennedy waited. I guess she wanted to know more. She gave me an expectant look.

"It's back, Kennedy," I said bluntly. "The First is back. It… it's here… it was talking to you earlier, and it talked to me. It looked like Tara, right?"

Kennedy nodded slowly, realization on her face. Goddess, she had been so easily fooled by the form of a woman she's never even met.

She spoke quietly, "I wasn't sure. I had never seen it… except for with Eve, but I didn't even know… I'm sorry, Willow."

I nodded. It didn't help much. She still wasn't anywhere close to returning my affections at the moment, and I didn't really care. My head was killing me again.

"It's okay," I said, finally, and continued, "We need to stop, we need to regroup." I looked up at her to show her I meant the entire group. The Gang.

Another nod from her. "I agree," she whispered, then regained her composure. "I'll gather the girls. We'll head for London tomorrow, go see Giles and…that Andrew kid. We'll get this taken care of, Will."

A soft laugh escaped my lips. I didn't realize until later, as she was gone informing the girls where we would be going, that I was laughing at the notion of Will being taken care of.

I knew that wasn't what she meant, but the thought lingered in my head. Sometimes, I don't need taking care of. And others, like then, I need a lot.

She had me mixed up.

* * *

The next day, we had contacted Giles, and he had arranged for a private jet to take us to England, where we would be taken to the large, imperial-ish home for the Slayers that had graduated from our little training camps. 

We were taken on donkey-back to our jet, a rather small, yet big enough, aircraft. The pilot greeted us in proper English. Goddess, that was a sound for sore ears.

"Afternoon, madams," he said, in a bright, chipper, almost cockney voice. He was young for a pilot, but he looked distinguished enough. His hat and his tie were on straight, and he sat up without slouching.

Okay, so I don't know much about piloting or anything. My criteria for an effective pilot would probably get us killed.

I smiled at him, nodding. "Good afternoon to you, too. Are we going to have to stop along the way?"

He smirked. "If all goes as planned, we won't be making any pit stops in the Atlantic Ocean, miss."

"Willow," I said, holding my hand out as the girls shuffled in behind me, commanded my Kennedy.

"Brian," was his reply, shaking my hand with a firm grip. I felt a spark of energy when I gripped his hand. It wasn't definitively good or bad. I tilted my head, but smiled anyway as our hands dropped. He was looking at me oddly. Had he felt it too? Heck, was my energy good or bad these days?

I shook my head, and tried to reassure him, "Just a little shock, sorry about that. We about ready to go?"

A door was opened behind me. The lavatory. Aha…

An older man came out, smoothing out his tie, and running a hand through his graying hair. I stood up straight, and got out of his way as he stepped into the cockpit, glaring down at Brian.

"Brian, get out of my seat, and stop fooling ladies into thinking you're flying." His accent was more pronounced and stilted, and, well, older.

Brian frowned, his pale cheeks growing rosy. He stood and moved over to the other chair in the cockpit. "Sorry, Father," he mumbled.

"Father?" I asked, smirking.

Brian's Father straightened up, then sat down at the helm (whatever it's called) of the cockpit, nodding. "Harold. Harold Drewer. And you are?"

"Willow, sir," I said, extending my hand again. He looked at it like an affront to his personal space. I retracted it with a muffled apology. I definitely preferred Brian to Harold.

"I do apologize for my son's behavior, miss. He tends to jump at the chance to impress any woman he sees, whether she is," he cleared his throat, "available or not."

Brian's frown seemed to multiply. I suddenly felt very badly for him.

"Mr. Drewer, we were just talking. Keeping each other company before the big takeoff," I said softly, smiling awkwardly at Brian.

Harold simply huffed and turned to face the front of the cockpit. "Please take a seat, miss. We will be taking off in a few moments."

I glared at him, then glanced at Brian again. His eyes were sad, and his face was bright red. He was no longer self-sure and fun, he was simply walked on.

I sighed, and turned, walking back to the cabin. I took a seat beside Kennedy, and buckled up. We were facing the cockpit, and the girls were spread out around the rest of the cabin, none facing us. I smirked, and put my hand in Kennedy's, squeezing it gently.

"At least this flight to England isn't because I went evil," I said, smiling hopefully. I'm not a good icebreaker.

Kennedy raised an eyebrow at me. She finds me amusing in ways I don't know if I like to be found amusing. "Yeah, that's never a good reason to go anywhere, Will." She laughed, and nodded up to the cockpit, where Brian and Harold were double-checking everything. "Who's your friend?"

"Oh, Brian?" I asked, smiling. "Son of the pilot. He was pretty nice, but his dad's a jerk."

The plane engine came to life beneath us, and Harold's voice came over the speakers. "Everyone must be secure before we may take off." Goddess, did he ever say something in a way that _wasn't_ a command?

We sat, ready to take off, until his voice came on again. "_Everyone_ must be buckled!" he nearly shouted.

Kennedy glanced around, looking for the girl who must still be unbuckled, and she spotted her. A small, shy girl with short brown hair and large, deep eyes sat next to a window, gazing out of it, her seatbelt not fastened.

She was homesick already.

Kennedy barked at her in Spanish to buckle up. The tears were already in her eyes when she shakily connected the two ends of her belt, then returned to looking out the window.

"Tell her we'll come back," I told Kennedy in a whisper.

Kennedy shook her head. "We won't, not with them, and it doesn't matter anyway," she said quietly, though harshly. "Her family's gone."

"Then who is she crying over?" I asked.

Kennedy turned, and nodded to the girl again, "_Que es tu problema?_"

I winced. Even I had understood that. Kennedy had many things, but tact was not one of them. I was dating a butch Cordelia, to some degree. I giggled to myself at that thought, no matter how disturbing it was. Cordelia in leather, spiked hair and plus 30 pounds. Heh.

I was drawn out of amusement with the look that the girl gave me. She covered her mouth, mumbled something in Spanish, and turned away from us, pulling a blue blanket up over herself.

Kennedy looked annoyed. "She won't answer. Guess it's not that important."

The look in the girl's eyes stayed with me, and I knew in that moment that she had seen something important out there.

But I was positive that the family she had seen was not her own.

The flight was pretty uneventful for the first few hours, even though we were allowed to unbuckle and walk around. There really wasn't much room to walk around in, anyway. I stayed beside Kennedy, occasionally sharing some looks, whispers and kisses, but nothing too serious or engaging.

I missed having someone to discuss things with. Kennedy and I spoke, and I loved some of our conversations. But I didn't have an intellectual equal anywhere near me. Maybe that's why I was so happy at the chance to see Giles again.

* * *

The cockpit door slid open somewhere around the third hour of being in the air. I was reading a book I had purchased from a peddler on the road to our flight. It was a cheap romance novel, but it was better than spending the whole time idly talking about nothingness. 

I looked up from the book, and smiled as Brian stepped out. He looked shaken. No wonder, really.

Kennedy was asleep on my shoulder; she looked content, and I was happy to have her there. I nodded softly to the seat across from us against the wall. He took the offer, and sighed in relief as he sat.

"The flying get boring?" I asked, dog-earing the page I was on in the book, so that I could talk.

"Yeah," he said, looking around awkwardly, as if searching for bugs. "That and listening to my father berate me for hours."

I sighed. "That's not so fun, yeah."

Kennedy shifted, and I reached up, gently running my fingers through her soft, dark hair. She smiled, and snuggled a bit closer.

She was totally awake. Attention whore.

I looked back up to Brian, whose eyes were alight with realization.

"Oh," was all he said.

I blushed, "Oh, yeah… that, um… we are, kinda…"

"No, I get it. It's alright, I just… I didn't know." He looked embarrassed.

"Sorry," I said softly. Kennedy didn't move. Maybe she was really asleep.

He shook his head, laughing. His grin was bright, despite the horror behind the cockpit doors. "Despite my father's opinion, I am not instantly smitten with every woman I see," he said.

I raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "Thanks? I think," I chuckled. "It's a relief to know that I wasn't going to have to pry you off of me by the end of the flight."

Brian laughed again. "There are things about me that my father doesn't know, and I'd prefer to keep it that way."

I tilted my head. "What, got a girlfriend already? A wife, kids?"

He shook his head, and ran a hand through his black hair. "No, none of that, I'm afraid."

I looked confused, I guess, because he sighed and shook his head at me. "Look," he said, leaning down to lift up his right pant leg. He pulled his sock down to reveal a name etched into his ankle.

Mark.

A slow smile spread across my face, and I looked up at him with a subtle nod. "I… he can't know of that. If he did, he would… well, he can't kill me for it, but he certainly would fire me. This business brings in enough money for me to live off it for ages."

I nodded, and made a zipper motion across my lips. "You're safe with me, Brian."

"Thank you, Willow." He smiled at me again. His smile made me happy.

We talked idly for a few more minutes, before my curiosity got the better of me.

"Do you know who you're flying for, Brian?" I asked.

He nodded quickly. "Oh, yes. It was the Council, right? Terrible tragedy, that. But now, I suppose we're flying for its replacement."

So he did know. Good.

"Yeah, that's about it. Except this is much better than the first Council. They were… they were kind of disgusting," I said, a gross expression on my face. "I don't miss them much, but of course I didn't wish any of them dead. Well, I did in the past, but… not actively."

The thought of all those dead Watchers made shiver. Some of them hadn't been bad. After all, we'd gotten Giles and Wesley from them. But most of them had been prigs. Or wankers, depending on where you were from in Britain.

Brian fell silent, and the awkwardness of that quiet made me shift in my seat.

"How long 'til we land?" I asked him.

"Not much longer. An hour and a half, maybe. This jet goes a bit faster than most commercial airliners."

"Enchanted?" I questioned.

He smirked. "Maybe a bit," he said with a wink.

I chuckled. "That's always handy. Hey… do you have email? I… it might be fun to keep in touch. Be a little support for you."

His face lit up even more than it had. "Oh… oh, okay. Yeah, hang on," he said, searching around for some paper. He pulled a postcard from a magazine in the seat next to him, and he jotted down his email address for me. I tore half of the card off when he gave it to me, and gave him mine. WedWicca23, that's me.

I was ready to explain myself, before he laughed. "Be vewy caweful," he said with a giggle.

I was amazed. "Nobody _ever_ gets that! Oh goddess, that's great," I laughed. "Everybody always thinks I'm married, and… that was _so_ not the message I was trying to convey."

We continued laughing and talking until he looked at the time, then out the window, and gulped.

He sighed, and frowned as he said, "I think I better get back to the 'pit. Father may get testy if I don't return to help with the landing."

I sighed, but nodded. "Alright. I'll come say bye before we head out, and I'll send you an email as soon as we get to a computer," I said softly, holding an arm out.

He stood, and leant down, hugging me with one arm. I smiled, squeezing him softly, trying not to move too much. He kissed me on the cheek, and I kissed him back, then let go as he did.

"See ya, Brian. Good luck with your dad," I said.

He nodded. "Thanks, Willow. Talk to you soon."

As he turned and left, Kennedy snorted and lifted her head. "We there yet?" she mumbled.

I held her close, and nodded. "Almost there, Ken. Just hang on," I whispered softly, preparing for a bumpy landing.


End file.
